


My Brother

by smolemu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, One Shot, POV First Person, Post-Deathly Hallows, Pre-Epilogue, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolemu/pseuds/smolemu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georges grief though Ginny's eyes.<br/>The first days he cried. Cried so hard he couldn't breathe. Then he was quiet, pale and silent. Then he laughed and told jokes in sentences that were never quite finished. He pretended not to notice. So we did the same.<br/>Also on FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother

The first days he cried. Cried so hard he couldn't breathe. Then he was quiet, pale and silent. Then he laughed and told jokes in sentences that were never quite finished. He pretended not to notice. So we did the same.

He asked me if looking at him hurt. I couldn't tell him the truth. So I told him; only when he looked alone.

We'd buried him with our Uncles. Fabian and Gideon. They fought together, died together. I heard George tell dad he wished they could have been the same. I wanted to scream. So I did. I screamed and shouted, I cried and shrieked. He held me close, and I realised it was the first time he'd hugged me since Fred died. He promised me; he promised to never do it.

He wasn't there to wave me off to school in September. That was back when he didn't speak. When he sat so still he sunk into the room. He wasn't there to welcome me home but after that Christmas, when he almost said he wanted to die, and I broke, he was there to see me go to Hogwarts on the train for the last time.

I wanted to stay home. So I could help mum. So I could watch George. So when I came back again he wouldn't be so different. I wanted to see him get better or stop him from getting worse. I didn't want to hear how he was through mum’s sugar coated letters or dads vague worry. Certainly not through Ron’s attempts to be sympathetic when he was so angry himself.

I was so happy to see my name in his writing on that scroll. I didn't care that he only said 'I'm okay'. I was so happy that wrote him six scrolls back. I told him about Quidditch, being captain and how excited I was to be hearing from professional teams. I asked him how the shop was going. I knew it was a touchy subject, Ron did most of the work to reopen and George never spoke with customers, often only replying to Ron with frustrated noises. Nothing he'd tried to invent had worked the way he wanted. Or they did and he hated the fact that he didn't make it with Fred. I still asked though. I begged him to send me some fireworks for Quidditch matches. I really hoped he would. I told him how much I hated Transfiguration that year, even with McGonagall. Merlin, how annoying Hermione had become with study plans. Then I asked about mum and dad. If Bill and Fleur had come round. If Fleur was showing yet. Had Charlie really been going to the Burrow more? Was he really thinking of transferring to the Welsh reserve? Had he seen the shop? What did he think?

He didn't reply.

So I sent him more and more for months.

Until finally, he replied. He didn't say much but it was enough. He was starting to care, I think. Or just able to show it. He asked me things. Told me the shop was doing well. He said Ron was good at business. He said he'd been working on a few things that looked promising. Mum's doing well, so's dad. Fleur is getting rounder. He said he missed me.

I wasn't home for the anniversary. The great hall was decorated with black banners emblazed with phoenixes. I recognised the twins handiwork at once. I knew though that it was all George. My heart shattered a little. I missed my brother, all my brothers. Dennis and I sat alone together for hours by the fire. Not speaking, just thinking.

George sent fireworks, for the last match of the year. Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff. I hoped we'd win, even if I had to stand in as seeker last minute.

There were black and yellow badgers, gold and red lions, silver and bronze broomsticks and at the end, when I caught the snitch, a larger than life version of me exploded into the sky. Freckles and all, grinning like I hadn't done in over a year. And I was. In that moment I felt myself smile and laugh, because Fred might be dead but, my brother, George, is still alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing in first person, so I hope it's not a complete mess. Please let me know what you think! I think this might actually be okay, I'm cautiously proud ^-^


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